


Hook, Line, and Sinker

by schweet_heart



Series: Hawaii Five-0 Fic [1]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Awkward Flirting, Banter, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode Tag, Episode: s02e22 Ua Hopu (Caught), Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Humor, M/M, Morning After
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-16
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2019-01-18 04:53:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12381309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schweet_heart/pseuds/schweet_heart
Summary: Episode tag to 2x22: Ua Hopu (Caught). Wo Fat may have been caught, but Steve and Danny have some unfinished business. Specifically, business regarding that time they slept together before Steve bolted for Japan.





	Hook, Line, and Sinker

**Author's Note:**

> It's been ages since I've been involved in this fandom, but I found this in my drafts folder and figured I might as well post it. Hope you enjoy!

 

Danny makes it all the way to his front door before he caves, whatever it is that has been keeping him going since Steve disappeared giving out like the snap of a rubber-band under too much pressure. He leans his forehead against the wood, key in the lock, unable to muster the energy to let himself in just yet, and closes his eyes. Steve is home. Safe. Alive. A bit beaten-up and bruised, sure, but nothing that time and a bit of TLC won't cure. Even so, he can still taste the after-burn of panic in his mouth like bile.

 

_If anything happens to that plane..._

 

He'd meant Steve. If anything happens to Steve.

 

The thing is, though, despite what he'd told his kidnappers, despite what he's been telling _himself_ since the day he came into the office and found that little bombshell on his desk, he's still not sure he has any right to claim vengeance for Steve, beyond what he otherwise would for a partner and a friend. Steve McGarrett doesn't run from many things, but he'd run from them – he'd actually gone to _Japan_ , what the fuck – and maybe Danny should take that as a sign that he and Steve just aren't meant to be. God knows he can't take getting his heart stomped on again. 

 

On the other hand, he's the one who keeps reminding Steve that he's only human. Guy was in the Navy, after all, and they drummed that Don't Ask, Don't Tell stuff in pretty deep – maybe all he needed was a bit of space to clear his head, make sure he knew what he was getting into.

 

The pessimist in Danny, however, doesn't think so. Steve is not a thoughtful, look-before-you-leap kind of guy: if he wants something, he jumps in with both feet and doesn't bother to ask questions like _do you mind_ or _is this okay_. That one night they'd spent together, before he left, he'd shown no signs of hesitation or a burgeoning Big Gay Freakout of any kind. If anything, he'd laughed when Danny said he might want to take a minute, and he had definitely been very enthusiastic about the whole thing. Danny had not imagined that part. Yet when Steve had stepped off the chopper tonight, the hug he'd offered Danny had been perfunctory at best, a manly clasp of the yay-we're-not-dead variety and nothing more. Not at all like the huge bear-hug Danny had been anticipating – all right, had been hoping for – despite the fact that they had all of them come ridiculously close to dying from several directions at once. 

 

He makes himself go inside, shower, and fix something to eat before he starts dwelling on all the events of the past few days in any kind of detail. He decides on pancakes, which is kind of ridiculous at three in the morning, but also, in a strange way, comforting. Pancakes remind him of Gracie and home and doing silly things like making his daughter breakfast dishes with little smiley faces on them and singing along to children's cartoons, and not the fact that he’d just gotten Steve back only to almost lose him all over again. He has a feeling he'll be dreaming about plane crashes every night for the near future; longer, even, if Steve doesn't come to the party.

 

Which is fine. Danny's been on this train before, enough that he knows all the stops between Disappointment Station and the absolute End of the Line, and he's pretty sure he and Steve haven't reached that point yet. Never will, if he has anything to say about it. Still, it’s not exactly been an easy ride.

 

He’s tired. The first batch of pancakes comes out slightly lumpy and burnt on one side, and he sits at the table and stares at the plate in front of him for a long moment before he can rouse himself to fetch the syrup. The pancakes taste like styrofoam, and he pushes them away just as someone knocks briskly on the front door. It’s not until he hears the knock that he realises he’s been waiting for it; expecting it, really. He doesn’t need to get up, doesn’t need to peer out the window first to know who it is.

 

It's Steve.

  

Steve has showered, too, that much is obvious from the damp hair and change of clothes, and someone's cleaned up the worst of the scrapes and bruises he got from the crash so that he's sporting a tiny butterfly bandage over his right eyebrow and there's a freshly taped piece of gauze peeping out from under the collar of his shirt. Most distracting of all, however, is the fact that he's standing there on Danny's doorstep like the previous day never happened, as if he'd just arrived from Japan and was intent on picking up right where they left off.

 

“What am I wearing?” Steve says, instead of a hello. “That's the best you could come up with?”

 

“The way you ran out on me, I figured,” Danny says, and he's blindsided, off-balance, but this is Steve so that's par for the course. “I figured that was a sign, you know what I mean? Like going off on some suicide mission to Japan was your socially-clueless way of telling me thanks but no thanks. So I thought, if we could make it a joke, if we could just— ”

 

“It's not a joke, Danny.”

 

“It's not?”

 

“No.” Steve's all up in his space now, large arms bracketing Danny where he stands in the doorway, those grey-blue eyes fixed on his and scary-intense. “Nothing about this is a joke to me.”

 

“Oh, there is a 'this' now? We're just gonna forget about the whole _Dear Danno_ letter you left me?”

 

“That wasn’t— that wasn’t— ” He looks away; takes a swipe at his face with one hand. “I had to go, Danny. I'm sorry, okay? I realise the timing wasn't the best, but I— ”

 

“But, what, you wanted a change of scenery, so you decided to leave me sitting here twiddling my thumbs while you went and got shot at in a different country for a change? What exactly do you want from me, Steven, huh?” Danny pokes Steve in the chest – his warm, nicely muscled chest, lets not forget – and leans in, his eyes never leaving Steve's face. “I'm not some Navy wife who's gonna sit around and wait for the big man to come home, you know. I don't need or want your protection.”

 

“Then what do you want?”

 

Sometimes, Danny can't understand how Steve can be so oblivious. It's part of his charm, he supposes, a super-efficient, highly-trained former Naval Intelligence operative who nevertheless can't see what's right in front of his face. It would be endearing, if it weren't also infuriating. 

 

“What I want,” he says, drawing out the word and forcing himself not to look at McGarrett's lips, at the long line of his body, “is to be your partner; for you to treat me like an equal. Is that so much to ask? You can't just drop off the face of the planet like that, Steve, not after— not without talking to me first, at the very least.”

 

Steve has the grace to look ashamed of himself, but he still persists in denying that there's a problem. “I left you a note.”

 

“Wow. Yes. Good for you, a note. What are you, a twelve-year-old girl sneaking out after curfew? You left me a cryptic message which told me precisely nothing and left me to think you were going to pull some kind of crazy kamikaze stunt – which, might I add, you more or less did – without even bothering to do me the courtesy of letting me know where we stood— ”

 

This time, when Steve interrupts him it's not to yell at him some more but to kiss him, his mouth covering Danny's and cutting him off mid-rant in a way that is, really, quite annoying, not to mention cheating, because Steve knows full well that Danny's a sucker for the way he tastes, the way he bites and licks his way into Danny's mouth with the same laser-focus he uses in chasing down hardened criminals. Danny's hands fist in Steve's shirt, and he really is going to give him a piece of his mind except before he can fully register what's happening Steve has him pressed up against the wall just inside the doorway, one knee sliding between his legs.

 

“This,” Steve breathes, moving down to kiss Danny's throat and jaw. “This is where we stand, okay Danno? This clear enough for you?”

 

“Could be,” Danny says, struggling to hold onto his anger. It's stupidly difficult when Steve's mouth is on his skin. “Could be I could use a bit more clarity.”

 

Steve pulls back a little and smirks at him, his grin widening as Danny makes an involuntary noise of disappointment. “I don't know,” he says, low and throaty and oh god, that voice should be illegal, it's going straight to Danny's dick in the worst way. “I think maybe I should just leave the explanation there. I'm sure you can fill in the blanks.”

 

“You wouldn't dare,” Danny says, but his grip tightens on Steve's shirt anyway. He can feel Steve's quiet puff of laughter on his cheek. “You asshole.”

 

“Yeah, Danny, I'm an asshole.”

 

“You are. I can't believe you. I thought you were dead, you freak, you didn't answer your phone— ”

 

“I needed time, Danny, that's all. I needed not to have Shelburne hanging over my head anymore, before we decided to pursue…whatever this is. I needed to know I wouldn't be putting you in danger.”

 

“There, you see?” Danny points a finger at him. “That, right there, you need to stop doing that, babe, or I'm going to have to show you exactly what I'm capable of.”

 

“Oh, really.” Steve is still smiling. “And what exactly are you capable of?”

 

It's a lost cause, of course – Danny had known the moment Steve turned up on his doorstep just how this evening was going to end. That doesn't mean he won't fight it, if only for a little bit longer.

 

“Bad things,” he says, manfully ignoring Steve's unforgivably suggestive expression. “Terrible, terrible things. I, my friend, am not the delicate little Jersey flower you believe me to be. You know, once I actually killed a guy?”

 

“Did you?”

 

“All by myself, no over-protective SEALs involved.”

 

He spreads his fingers in a wide, look-ma-no-hands gesture, and Steve laughs, tipping his head back so that his throat catches the light from the open doorway, and that's it, really: Danny is gone, gone, gone, hopelessly head-over-heels and not even trying to deny it anymore. He drags Steve's head back down to his and kisses him fiercely, giving up his totally legitimate grievances for the moment in exchange for the yielding softness of those lips under his. Steve kisses back, utterly unsurprised, and yeah, maybe Danny has missed him, missed this more than he thought, because he can’t seem to keep himself from pressing closer, deepening the kiss. Steve's hands are roaming down his body, untucking his shirt from the waistband of his pants and sliding under it to his skin, making him hiss and jerk forward as if stung by electricity.

 

“You,” he says, not bothering to pretend he's not breathing hard, “are a menace. What are you doing to me, Steven?”

 

“ _I'm_ a menace,” Steve mutters, pulling at the shirt. It's gratifying to hear that he's more than a little out of breath as well. “Look at you, standing there all— ”

 

“All what?”

 

“All _you_ ,” Steve says, sounding frustrated. He tugs Danny's shirt up over his head and tosses it somewhere out of sight, and oh, how had Danny thought he could forget, the way it felt when Steve thumbed his nipples, his palms warm on Danny's chest, mouth at Danny's throat again, nipping and sucking?

 

“Steve,” he gasps finally, putting up a hand to block him as Steve goes in for the coup de grace. “Wait a sec. Stop. We shouldn’t— ”

 

Steve's entire body goes still, hands dropping away as if he's been burned. Danny almost whines at the loss, but manages to stop himself from reaching out when he sees the confusion – fuck, the _hurt_ – on Steve's face.

 

“Is that a— pout, are you pouting? Are you serious right now?” Danny grips Steve's chin and turns his face side-to-side to check. “You are adorable. God help me, I think you're adorable. I only meant that we shouldn't do this here, in full view of the neighbours.” He gestures to the open door. “Which you would know if you'd bothered to let me finish speaking before jumping to idiotic conclusions. You may have no issues with sex of the public variety, but I have to live with these people and I'd rather not do so knowing that they may possibly have seen me making the beast with two backs with my partner.”

 

“Oh.” Steve's eyes light up, losing their tension in favour of a brilliant smile. “Well, why didn't you say so?”

 

“I believe I just did.”

 

Steve gives him a look, then without even glancing over his shoulder hooks the door with one leg and slams it closed. He reaches for Danny with both hands, his whole face focused and intent, and Danny's pretty sure that it's the hottest thing he's ever seen.

 

He immediately revises that opinion, however, when they get to the bedroom, and he finally gets the chance to strip Steve and push him back on the bed, entirely naked. Again. No matter how many times he sees it – and there will be many more times, if he has anything to say about it – the sight of Steve sprawled on his back on the bed, the hard curve of his cock leaking pre-cum onto his stomach is one that never fails to turn Danny on and terrify him in equal measure. It makes half of him want to protect Steve, to cover him up and shield him from prying eyes. It makes the other half of him want to do dirty, dirty things to that gorgeous body.

 

“See something you like?” Steve asks, looking up at him with a grin, and Danny realises he's been poised at the end of the bed, staring like some kind of a love-struck idiot for way too long.

 

“Just wanted to make sure you weren't going to disappear on me again,” he says gruffly, avoiding Steve's amused gaze. “You have anything else you want to get off your chest, while we're about it? You haven't secretly re-enlisted with the damn Marines or something, and are shipping off to Iraq in the morning?”

 

Steve's expression softens, and he reaches for Danny's wrists with both hands, drawing him down onto the bed with him.

 

“You know I wouldn't do that, Danny.”

 

“Do I? Do I, he says! Not long ago I would've sworn you wouldn't just ditch me for Tokyo either, and I would have been wrong then.”

 

“Well, you're not wrong now,” Steve says firmly, kissing him. “I'll even let you tie me down, if you want. Just to make sure.”

 

For a second, Danny actually considers it – not because he really believes Steve will bolt, but because the idea isn't without its possibilities. Then he shakes his head.

 

“Next time,” he says, running his hand up the smooth planes of Steve's abdomen and back down again to the angular bones of his hip and the curve of his ass. “Right now, I just want you to touch me.”

 

“That, I can do.”

 

 

*

 

 

Steve comes quietly, something Danny is starting to think might be a habit – and probably the only time that particular phrase could be applied to him in any situation. Danny follows shortly afterwards, feeling his own breath hot against the nape of Steve’s neck, some of the tension finally leaving his body as he slumps against Steve’s back. Sex with Steve was always going to be the easy part – for all he can be reticent to the point of paranoia when it comes to his feelings, Steve has never been shy about sharing his body, and he knows several excellent things to do with his hands. But that doesn’t mean they don’t still have some unfinished business to resolve: never let it be said that Danny is anything but persistent, even when battling through a post-orgasmic haze.

 

“What was that, back there, anyway?” he asks, nudging Steve before he can fall asleep. He gets an irritated grunt in response.

 

“Back where? In the living room?”

 

“No, you goof, back on the helipad. What, are PDAs against the SEAL code now? You can't hug a guy after he saves your ass from not one but two bloodthirsty mobs who want you dead?”

 

“Firstly, they didn't want me dead, they wanted Wo Fat dead. Secondly, I was being professional. I thought you'd be proud of me.”

 

Danny sucks in a deep breath, preparing to tell Steve just how not proud he was that he'd chosen that particular moment to start giving a fuck about proper procedure, when he catches the look on Steve's face and shuts his mouth with a click. In spite of his apparent levity, Steve's expression is tentative, even vulnerable. Like he really does want Danny's approval – or his understanding, maybe, something – and all of a sudden it occurs to Danny that he's not the only one with insecurities in this relationship. Hell, he's practically well-adjusted compared to Steve.

 

“Hey,” he says, deliberately softening his voice. He reaches over to press a kiss against Steve's clavicle. “I get it, babe. If you don't want this to get out— ”

 

“It's not that,” Steve says hurriedly. “Well, maybe it is partly that – not that I think Chin and Kono would care, but I am your boss, technically, and then there's the fact that people might...target you. If they knew. To get to me,” he clarifies, when Danny frowns at him. “They might target you or your family to get to me, and I don't want— ”

 

He breaks off, looking away, and Danny watches the ghost of some ancient guilt flash over his face – memories he can't, or won't, share, but whose effects Danny has come to know all too well.

 

“All right,” he prompts, not wanting Steve to dwell. “If it's not that, then what is it?”

 

Steve's hand trails down his back and settles at the base of his spine.

 

“I didn't know what it meant to you,” he admits in a low voice. “You were so angry with me on the phone – but then you wanted to know what I was wearing and I wasn't sure if that meant you'd forgiven me or if you wanted to move on and just go back to how it was before.”

 

The fact that Steve, a man who faces loaded weapons daily without flinching, can't even look him in the eye at this moment is enough to break Danny's heart all over again.

 

“Steve,” he says, but that's all he can manage. He presses his mouth against Steve's neck, his jaw, those ridiculous cheekbones, then finally against his lips, his fingers digging into the tan muscle of Steve's biceps, trying to convey everything he's feeling through touch instead of words. He wishes suddenly that he could go back in time and give everyone who ever hurt this man a swift kick in the balls.

 

“For the record,” he says finally, when they break apart. “I'm playing for keeps, here, Steven. We do this, we go the whole way, you understand? No half-assing it, and no takesies backsies.”

 

In spite of the seriousness of the moment, Steve laughs, his teeth flashing bright in the darkness. Danny tries to scowl at him, but it's difficult, considering they're pressed together from top to toe, and the movement of Steve's body under his is causing his dick to take a renewed interest in the proceedings. He shakes Steve by the shoulders.

 

“Hey! McGarrett! I'm trying to have a conversation here.”

 

“Sorry,” Steve says, unrepentant, but to his credit he does try to bring the laughter under control. “You were saying?”

 

Danny waits until Steve's twitching lips have stilled, and they're eye to eye, a strangely fraught position in the dim light. “No takesies backsies,” he repeats, and waits.

 

Steve's hand comes up as if involuntarily, stroking Danny's hair, his face.

 

“No takesies backsies,” he echoes, his voice soft. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

 

Which, Danny thinks wryly, is about as close to a declaration of undying love that he's likely to get, so he might as well accept it for what it is.

 


End file.
